Meditation on the Overcoming of Intellectual Futility

We stubbornly bury ourselves
under a sediment of indignation,
into sponge-shaped systoles and diastoles,
and slowly walk away from the vivid murmur of life,
determined to conquer Answers,
the placebo for our soul.

I think that the toxicity of generalizations,
of thoughts,
of ideas that gush within us,
condemns us to the insubstantial
inertness of pamphleteers.

I think we do not know anything;
nor are we interested in knowing.
Plugged on the headphones
of a constant flow of contaminated information,
we allow to distance ourselves
from the pleasure,
from the magic of intuition, of quest, of knowledge.
We find it too difficult to
utter a single word without sounding random,
erudite without a pedigree,
vendors of cerebral mist,
collectors of fog.

I hate stagnation.
I hate feeling prisoner of the uniformity of truth.
I want to establish an ever growing
Republic of Ambiguity, of Improvisation, of Spontaneity,
of Naïve Ingenuity, of Placid Uncertainty.

Like the trees, we, too, can be eternal,
if only we root ourselves
in the unquestionable solidity of what must be solid
and grow in the unashamed volatility of what must be volatile.

I dream of a land, where
the mysterious with would melt with the tangible,
religion with pragmatism,
faith with knowledge,
mysticism with practicality,
playfulness with rigor,
elation with serenity.
A land, where one would move around
by gently levitating above the ground,
and where everything good would be allowed
to florish freely in its singularity -
except for parrots, who would be banished forever.

2 komentarja:

Anonimni
pravi ...

Wow i was viewing your different blog, Rerum fragmentarium to read the three poems of Edvard Kocbek. Thank you for these translations ; i thought the third was so mighty . I do not know if this poem here, is yours but it is extremely well expressed. I think things are changing .. as time is passing . i hope so . 'Hope is made of steel', it is said